Lucas, of course, took his time, knowing she was watching. He did love to preen.
“Arrogant,” she whispered, raising her gaze slowly to meet his.
“It’s not arrogance if it’s true, Katie mine,” he drawled, unfazed by her comment. He grinned and dropped to the bed once more, stretching out next to her, one arm over her belly, his fingers cupping her hip, the other touching her face.
“What happens next, Lucas?”
His laughter fled. “I’m going to make love to you, Kathryn,” he murmured. “But when we share blood this time, we’ll truly share blood. I’ll take yours, and you’ll take mine.”
“But I always—”
“Not a sip, a cuisle. Not a shallow bite that breaks my skin. Not this time. I’ll slice my wrist for you, and you’ll drink.”
Her eyes flashed up to meet his, and she found them already gleaming gold with desire. “Won’t that hurt you?”
He smiled. “It will be the furthest thing from hurt. It will be heaven itself.”
He bent over and kissed her then, not a teasing brush of lips this time, but a deep, lingering, passionate kiss. The kind of kiss they wrote poems about. A kiss that Kathryn wished could go on forever . . . until she felt the hard length of Lucas’s erection along her thigh, and she remembered there were far better things than kisses . . . even when the kisser was Lucas.
Lucas’s hands were everywhere, stroking her thighs, tugging at the shoulders of her dress with a huff of frustration, until he finally pulled down the zipper and stripped her unceremoniously out of the little black dress she’d selected so carefully for this evening. His breath ran out with appreciation when her breasts were revealed—pale mounds plumping over the black lace of the matching bra, rosy tips eager points within their enclosure—before twisting the front snap, baring her breasts completely only a moment before his mouth closed over one hungry nipple. He sucked hard, drawing half of her breast into his warm mouth, his fangs a slick presence, their sharp points barely felt as his tongue swirled around, tasting her, teasing her nipple into a swollen nub.
Kathryn’s back bowed as she offered herself eagerly, holding his head against her breast, curling one leg over his hip as he settled between her thighs, not fucking her, not yet. But she felt his cock all the same. It was a heavy weight against her leg, a velvet stroke on the tender skin of her thigh.
“Lucas,” she murmured hungrily, bucking against him, wanting to feel him inside her, wanting him so deep that, as she’d told him before, she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. “Baby,” she pleaded.
“Kathryn,” he whispered. And she shivered when his breath blew over her wet breasts.
He lifted himself above her, powerful arms braced to either side of her shoulders as she spread her legs wider, then reached down and stroked the steel length of his cock, so hard and smooth, so hot. Wrapping her fingers around him, gripping him tightly, possessively, she positioned him at the wet center of her sex, lifting herself so that his tip barely slid inside her.
She lifted her gaze when he didn’t follow through, didn’t push deeper into her body. He waited until her eyes were on his, until she was bathed in the golden gleam of his power, and then he flexed his hips, and in a single powerful thrust drove himself forward, not stopping until his balls slapped against her ass, until she felt the touch of his cock against her cervix deep within. He held there for a moment, their eyes locked as the inner muscles of her sheath strained around his thickness, as her cream coated his length until he was as soaked in it as she was. And then he moved again, thrusting strongly in and out, never looking away from her face.
Kathryn’s eyes wanted to close. The power of his stare was too much to process, the emotion, the love brimming over, demanding the same of her. But something about Lucas wouldn’t permit her to do that. This thing they were sharing demanded truth between them. He was baring his soul to her, and she had to do the same. He deserved it. He deserved everything she could give him. And so she held his gaze, baring her heart, all of the love she felt for him, her vulnerabilities, her fears, and her total trust in him.
“Kathryn,” he growled, as his pace suddenly quickened, his cock slamming faster, moving in and out, skin slapping with every plunge. Kathryn’s legs tightened around his back as she lifted herself into every thrust, and his fangs grew, pressing against his sensuous lower lip. Kathryn licked her own lips, suddenly hungry for the taste of his blood.
“Do it,” she hissed, digging her nails into his shoulders as if to anchor him to her.
His head lowered, and she felt his hot breath, the double sting of his fangs as they pierced her skin, the pressure as he punctured her vein . . . and then the rush of exquisite pleasure as the euphoric in his bite shot into her bloodstream, storming along every nerve until the orgasm overwhelmed her and she cried out, arms and legs tightening convulsively around Lucas, even as her pussy squeezed his cock until he could barely move, until he groaned against her neck and his fangs slid out of her vein. She felt the wet touch of his tongue then, as he licked the few stray drops and she welcomed the weight of his body as he collapsed against her, his hips still flexing, his cock still hard inside her, moving slowly, languorously, still fucking her.
“Katie, mine,” he whispered. And then his arms came around her, steel bands holding her as he rolled until she was on top of him. She cried out, staring as he brought his own wrist to his mouth and sliced it open with one fang, a long straight cut down the center.
Her eyes lifted in shock, but his were filled with love, with . . . desire. And she understood. Taking his wrist in her fingers, she brought it to her mouth and sucked.
Kathryn had tasted enough of Lucas’s blood that she knew what to expect, or thought she did. The reality was so much more. This wasn’t the tiny taste that brought with it an overwhelming rush of lust. This was . . . Lucas. She tasted the golden glow of his power, felt the unflinching loyalty he gave to the vampires who loved and needed him, the red-hot heat of his desire for her, the even hotter flame of their love. And she wondered how she’d ever worried that this would be too much. Because this was Lucas, and he was already hers.
LUCAS WATCHED Kathryn’s mouth close over his wrist, felt the first hard pull as she took his blood inside her, and his cock grew almost painfully stiff. He’d never shared himself with another woman like this, had never even considered such a thing before meeting Kathryn. She was the one, the only one for him. Watching her drink his blood was a high like nothing he’d ever experienced. And he’d tried just about every high the human world had to offer.
Holding her hips in place, he thrust slowly upward, her pussy so tight, so hot, so fucking slick. It quivered around his cock, caressing him with delicate fingers as a new orgasm began to build within her, as the full impact of his blood heated her veins for the first time. Her fingers convulsed around his wrist as she continued to suck hungrily, and then, without warning, it hit. Going from desire to climax in the space of a heartbeat, they orgasmed together, his release a boiling rush of ecstasy as Kathryn bucked on top of him, her thighs clenching convulsively around his hips, nails digging into his chest as she writhed above him, her cries echoing his groans.
He pulled her down, crushing her against his chest, her breath shuddering over his skin as she trembled in the final throes, making helpless little noises that had his cock hardening all over again.
And then he felt it. The mate link. A connection like nothing he’d ever known.
Kathryn wasn’t bound to him as his vampires were, a weight on his soul, a burden of responsibility. She wasn’t even bound with the ties of love he felt for his Sire or his own vampire children, the ones who had a hold on his heart.
She wasn’t bound at all. She wasn’t tied to his heart. She was his heart.
“A ghrá,” he whispered, knowing for the first time what it truly meant. My heart.
The End . . .
Of this story.
But not the end of Lucas and Kathryn’s story.
Vampire Vignette #12
When Juro Met Lucia
(and fell in love)
Shortly after the events of UNFORGIVEN, Book 7.5
Los Angeles, CA
LUCI SPUN AT the sound of running footsteps in the hallway outside her office, turning just in time to see one of her younger charges skid to a stop in her doorway.
“Ms. Luci! There’s a huge dude—”
His words cut off with a squeak as a shadow fell over his skinny form, a moment before the huge dude made his appearance.
“Juro,” she scolded. “Stop scaring the children.”
The teenager, who’d been staring up at Juro, way up, immediately redirected his attention at Luci. “I ain’t scared!” he insisted.
“My apologies, Dante,” Luci told him, fighting a grin. “But you can go back to the front room now. Mr. Juro is a friend.”
Juro made room, barely, for the kid to squeeze out of Luci’s doorway and escape back down the hall. He watched Dante’s departing form until she heard the front screen door slam. If it had been any other kid, she might have worried that he was off to the streets to get in trouble. But not Dante, or whatever his real name was. A lot of the kids gave her false names. It made it harder to get them government help, but most of them had been screwed by the system too many times to trust easily.
Hard on the heels of the slamming door, Juro grunted softly, then stepped into her office, making the small space seem even smaller. He was such a big man, and so very beautiful. In the finely tailored suits he wore for Raphael, he was handsome and formidable. One could guess at his strength, at the muscles and bulk that had to make up the body beneath the elegant fabric. But dressed as he was now—in a black T-shirt, the sleeves stretched to circle huge biceps, fabric clinging to broad shoulders and a thickly-muscled chest before being tucked into a pair of black Levi’s that hung low on narrow hips—he was absolutely drool-worthy. The T-shirt hung slightly looser over his flat belly, hinting at the ripped abdomen that she had never glimpsed, but knew had to be there.
She tried not to stare, or at least not to let him catch her, as he studied the few mismatched seating options in her office. He was probably worried they wouldn’t hold his weight, and with good reason. Frowning, he finally settled on the battered love seat pushed up against the back wall beneath a fringe of hanging plants. Luci winced in sympathy when he sat down. The short couch wasn’t comfortable for her, and she was a third of Juro’s weight.
His scowl deepened as he eyed the badly sprung seat beneath him, then extended his regard to the torn and stained upholstery. “You need a new couch,” he told her.
“I need five more beds much worse than I need a new couch,” she said mildly.
“I can get—”
“It’s not just the beds, Juro,” she explained. “It’s the room to put them in.”
He frowned. Juro was a problem-solver.
“It’s not your problem,” she said gently. “I’m working on a couple of deals.”
“What sort of deals?”
“The kind that will get my kids a bigger facility.”
“Good. I don’t like you being here by yourself. It’s not safe.”
“I’m rarely by myself,” she said, intentionally ignoring the second half of his statement. It was either that or going with her gut and telling him where he could shove his dictates about what was and wasn’t safe for her. It wasn’t his job to keep her safe.
“You know what I mean, Lucia.”
“I do. And I also know that it’s not your job to keep me safe.” Okay, so she’d gone ahead and told him anyway.
But at least she’d been polite.
Juro raised his dark eyes, meeting her gaze evenly. “You told the boy I was a friend.”
Luci blushed, not knowing what to say. They were friends. More than friends actually. And they’d be way more than friends if she got her way, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that.
“You didn’t call earlier,” she said instead. “I thought maybe you had other plans.”
He met her eyes steadily. Juro’s face gave away so little of what he was thinking. Then a tiny smile softened his expression. “Would you go out with me on Friday, Lucia?”
Luci’s heart literally missed a beat. At least that’s what it felt like. She and Juro had . . . was dated too strong a word? They’d spent several evenings together, but they’d always met somewhere. The first time had been by happy chance, when they’d run into each other on a Tuesday evening. Luci had been enjoying a quiet and solitary glass of wine after spending two hours and an early dinner schmoozing a potential donor. Juro had walked in with a couple of other guys that she didn’t know, but assumed were also vampires. He’d been heading for the bar when he spotted her and strolled over. Although, really, “strolled” didn’t come close to describing the big vampire’s predatory grace. He hadn’t asked if he could join her. He’d simply pulled out a chair and sat down. And the rest, as they say, was history.
But that history didn’t include anything beyond pleasurable evenings together, at the end of which they always went back to their separate cars and separate lives. Granted, there was always a kiss goodnight, even at the end of that first, accidental meet. And sure, the kisses had gotten hotter and hotter, with a lot more body contact, but never more than that. And Luci was definitely ready to get a lot more of Juro than the acceptable bounds of a PDA.
“Out?” she repeated now, daring to hope.
“This Friday,” he told her. “I’ll pick you up at your house. There’s a club I think you’ll enjoy. Excellent music, and I’m told the food is good.”
Dinner. He was picking her up and taking her out to dinner. Yippee!
“I’d love to,” she said, not having to fake her enthusiasm.
Juro’s smile broadened into a rare grin, sending hot spears of lust stabbing between her thighs and making her fervently hope that he couldn’t smell her arousal.
The distant slam of the front screen followed by a heavy tread down the hall drew her attention a moment before another of Luci’s teenage charges stormed to a halt in front of her office door. Juro was on his feet faster than her eyes could follow, placing himself between her and the oversized teenage boy standing in her doorway.
“Everything okay here, Ms. Luci?” the teen asked, his voice already the deep rumble of a man, despite the slight tremble in reaction to Juro, who was glaring down at him.
Luci stood and placed a gentling hand on Juro’s rock-hard forearm.
“It’s okay,” she told Juro. “This is Sollie. He helps me out here.” Turning to the young man, she said. “Dante called you?”
“Yeah, he said some big guy showed up out of nowhere.”
Luci felt, more than heard, Juro’s growl. She patted his arm again. “Juro is a friend, Sollie. I told Dante that.”
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked suspiciously.
She had to give the kid credit. Even if he was big for his age and well on his way to becoming a very big man, he’d never match Juro’s height, and he’d sure as hell never achieve the vampire’s strength and speed. But Sollie had a natural protective streak. She didn’t know where he got it, but he watched over the smaller kids and her, too, it would seem.
“I’m perfectly safe, Sollie,” she reassured him. She started to step closer, but Juro shifted just enough that she couldn’t get by. Apparently, Sollie wasn’t the only one who worried about her safety.
“Okay. I’ll be right here in the living room, if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
Juro didn’t move until Sollie’s footsteps faded, to be replaced by greetings from the other kids in the house.
Then he twisted to look down at her, noting her hand on his arm before lifting his eyes to meet hers.
“You shouldn’t be here alone. A boy that size is a real threat.”
“Sollie would never hurt me,” she said dismissively.
“Not him, maybe. But one of the others.”
“I’m not usually here alone, especially at night. But Alex was delayed. He’ll be here any minute.”
“Alex?”
Luci blinked at the blatant hostility surrounding that single word when Juro said it. It gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, even as the little voice of her inner therapist told her that his possessiveness was excessive. She told the little voice to shut up and smiled up at Juro, instead.
“I’d love to have dinner with you on Friday. Do you know where I live?” He gave her a patient look. Of course he knew where she lived. He probably knew more about her than she did.
His eyes warmed. “Is nine o’clock all right?”
She nodded. “Perfect.”
“Why don’t you walk me out? We can talk outside until this Alex arrives.”
“Really, Juro. I’m perfectly—”
“Safe, yes. So you said. Walk out with me.”
“Okay, fine,” she said, surrendering to the inevitable. It was pointless to try to win a battle of wills with a vampire. Cyn had warned her about that, even before she’d started spending time with Juro.
He placed a big, warm hand on her lower back. “Good choice.”
Luci swallowed the giddy words that were trying to bubble their way up her throat. He likes me, he really likes me!
Vampires in America Page 3